


wanting.

by TexMex007



Series: It Happened Once In A Discord Chat [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Did I expect to write this?, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, No but I'm proud nonetheless sksksk, it's more like a Before Sex thing, nooow i'm done, not much else to say really, okay i'm done tagging, one more- a somewhat character analysis, so there's nothing explicit obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexMex007/pseuds/TexMex007
Summary: The calm before the storm; a moment to ponder, to analyze, and to touch.





	wanting.

Aziraphale's on his knees, but not in prayer, and definitely _not_ before the Almighty. As Crowley gazes down at him, he can't help but notice he looks quite natural like this; no hint of shame or discomfort in his features. It's dizzying, to have an angel at your feet; Crowley knows he's lower than the dust of the Earth, believes it anway, yet here he is- even if Aziraphale is still fully dressed, silly plaid bowtie and all. It's better this way, Crowley thinks, because he knows Aziraphale's face wouldn't change if he were naked instead-that same self-assured air of his wouldn't falter one bit and that knowledge alone does funny things to his vessel.

It's hard to look anywhere but into Aziraphale's eyes which are currently uncharacteristically dark, pupils blown wide with a burning lust that radiates from his very core. He's used to them shining brightly, mischievously even, at times, but this all encompassing and raging sea of desire swirling in his gaze is almost too much. There's a hint of violent passion in them- a peek behind the normally pastel and floral scented curtains Aziraphale likes to hide behind from time to time. It's soothing.

"What would you like?" Aziraphale asks, tone soft and considerate as ever. He's grinning. Enjoying making Crowley open his mouth for once and ask. He _knows_ he struggles. Smug bastard.

Crowley reaches out and runs his fingers through his hair. It feels feather soft, and it shines radiantly. He wants to tug, but he refrains. For now. Aziraphale has been on his best behavior thus far; his hands are clasped together and resting on his lap. His knuckles are white. Yes. He's being very good. Good behavior deserves a reward; his angel deserves whatever he wants.

"I want-" what does he want? Crowley swallows. He's not sure he should say the truth. He just _wants_. Aziraphale waits, as patient as ever, as Crowley stalls and runs his hand down Aziraphale's face before pressing one long finger to his plush lips. He wants that, he knows. In a moment of startling fondness, Aziraphale kisses it.

"Oh, _fuck_ me." Crowley whispers.

"Gladly."


End file.
